


Will, Ben and all the things they never had

by Rainydaysies



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainydaysies/pseuds/Rainydaysies
Summary: Where Ben writes about William, his one and only love who was sent to war.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Will, Ben and all the things they never had

England.  
March 28, 2052

About him

My therapist told me that I should open up about William.  
"Benjamin, it has been two full years, and still, you can't even say his name out loud."  
Of course it was easy for her to say that.   
She didn't understand. How could she?   
She hadn't met the boy with honey-gold eyes and the blondest curls, and the touch so soft I melted every time he was around.  
If she had spent at least a day with Will, she'd understand why, even after all this time, it is still difficult to think about him without feeling like the world is about to collapse — ironically, the same bittersweet feeling I had the last time we saw each other.   
No, I didn't want to talk about him. Not to her, not to anyone else. Talking about Will would only result in people giving me that pitiful look, like pity was all I deserver after all.  
But, even though I didn't want to talk about him, I still wanted to find a way I could keep his details as alive as possible in my memory, so as never to forget what he meant to me.   
That's why I decided to write about all the memories we had together.  
This is nothing but a goodbye. The eulogy of the funeral he didn't get to have.  
About him:  
William Adams was all the good things that existed in the world combined in a 5' 11'' boy that never knew when to shut up. I never met anyone as kind as Will was: he used to help everyone around him whenever he could, sometimes even when he couldn't, often sacrificing his own time and happiness for the sake of others. I hated when he did that, but he would still do it anyway.   
Will wanted to be a doctor. He took two different first aid courses because, according to him, he was so scared of the thought of not being able to do something if he needed to.   
Will wanted to save lives. In many ways, he saved mine.

We met in an old pub, where all the windows were dusty and the whole room felt like it was just recently cleaned after being covered in mold. Like it was abandoned, but not quite completely. Pubs were a thing of the past, I don't think nobody cared about them anymore. Especially, not that one. So maybe that's the reason I was hired to perform there.  
I mean, I was never a bad singer, but nobody really wanted to know about a 16-year-old beginner dude that wrote songs that felt exactly like all the other ones, except maybe a little worst.   
At the time, I was not as frustrated about that as maybe I should have been. But I was 17, I didn't have much thought about making it out there or anything. I just wanted to sing and enjoy life.  
On that particular night, my show's audience consisted of five people: three friends drank and played on their cell phones, at a distant table, talking loudly and distracted, my sister, who'd come to accompany me, and a boy about my age, who held only a glass of coca-cola, and would take sips at it in silence, looking at me from afar.  
When I saw him, I was actually happy that someone outside my family was enjoying — or at least listening to — my music, but the last thing I expect was for him to come talk to me at the end of the night. The moment I put my guitar away and went to the bar to get some water, he showed up.  
“Hey!” the boy called me. I turned around, startled, almost spilling the water on both of our shirts. “Hold on,” he said, laughing. “You sing very well.”  
I looked away, not knowing exactly how to react.  
“I- uh... thank you”   
I turned my attention back to the water, not sure what to do, but the boy calmly sat on the chair next to me.   
Two teenagers in a pub drinking coke and water. We looked like the definition of misfits.  
That bar became my permanent job, and I, surprisingly, I would always find the boy with yellow curls waiting for me there.  
Whenever my shift ended, we stayed a little longer, often helping the place owner close things up. Sometimes we would talk for a while, sometimes we stayed still, completely silent enjoying each other's company.  
We didn't know each other very well, but our silences just seemed to fit. Something felt right.  
"William?" I called, one of those days.  
"Benjamin?" he replied, smiling. Will used to smile at everything I said. It was both very annoying and utterly adorable.  
"Dude, like, why are you always here?" I asked, without thinking twice. "I mean... I'm stuck here with this shitty job 'cause I can't find anything else. But what about you? Why are you always in this shithole?"  
Will gave himself a few seconds to think, resting his face on his hand like he was somewhat distracted.   
"Can I be honest here?" Will asked. It was not a rhetorical question, I realized, as he waited for my answer. I nodded, and he gave a small bittersweet smile. "I don't have anywhere else to go. My house ..." Will sighed "It's just not very good there. I could use a chance to run away, so I do when this place's open."  
The pain his eyes showed for a split-second was what made me realize there was so much more to that boy than I ever knew.  
I found out Will's age on his 17th birthday.  
"We should get drunk" he whispered, laughing. "To celebrate. I'll say it's my 18th birthday"  
It didn't felt like a bad idea, I was always curious about what it was like to drink anyway.  
But still, Will did not look older. In fact, he looked younger. His golden curls and big round eyes made him look so innocent that I swear the guy just sold the drinks because he felt sorry for us.  
Still, we didn't drink much- not to the point of getting drunk at least. William hated it. I liked.  
We would laugh at each other's reactions and made fun of everything like we knew each other forever. We had never been that close before that night.   
We were friends, of course. After seeing the same person almost every day for months, you grow affectionate for them.   
But that night- something felt different.  
"Ben, I've been wanting to tell you something," Will said, lying with his head on the table, sleepy. I didn't know a person could get drunk with just two glasses, and yet, he looked anything but sober.  
"What is it, Willie?" I replied, smiling. He was usually the smiling one, but I was feeling particularly happy that day.  
Will's expression, however, turned serious.  
"Do you remember that when you asked me why I'm always here?"  
I agreed.  
"So I said I come here because I don't have many places to go," he recalled. "I wanted to say that... Well, that's true. In a way."  
I stared at him, confused. His rebellious curls were almost covering his eyes and I had the urge to run my finger through it but stopped myself.  
"What do you mean?" I asked.  
"Well, It is true that my house sucks. So I'm always anywhere but home, that's why I ended up here the first time. But then... I came back. Not because of the place. I just really liked to hear you sing. I still do. I love being around you"  
I broke into a sincere smile. Will was the person who supported me the most about my music. Possibly the only person.  
"Thank you," I whispered, shyly.  
He fixed his posture, fixing pulling his hair back, with a sleepy, but lovely, look. Like he had just woken up from a very good dream.   
"It isn't just that," he continued, "I think we have this thing of not praising the people around us, you know? I have this personal motto that if you like something about someone, you should tell them. And I like everything about you. I like you if you know what I mean.  
He seemed to have suddenly woken, perhaps realizing what he just said. Will started to slur out his words, panicking "I don't even know why it took me so long to tell you that and why I'm saying it now. Oh god, I should"t have... I don't even know if you like boys and it probably doesn't even matter because..."  
So I interrupted him. With a kiss.   
That was the first time I ever drank, and the first time I kissed a boy. And the first night of what would be the best year of my life: the year I spent with Will.  
We went out on so many dates, always talking about everything from the universe to our daily lives, we'd make silly jokes and laugh so hard that we'd forget about the world around us. We planned our whole future together.   
He told me about how he wanted to someday be able to help people and I confessed to him that I didn't really know what I wanted to do, but that I was happy where I was.   
Will liked romance movies and I liked horror ones. We were complete opposites Will was so sweet and I was so bitter. I was so indecisive and messy and intense, but he loved me just like that. And I loved him.   
I loved being around him.   
So Will got a job. He wanted to move out. I had some money saved and it just... felt like the right thing.   
We had been together for a little over a year and, even though we were so different, we got understood each other like no one else in the world did. So, as soon we turned 18, we decided to live together.  
We rented a studio uptown, so small that we were barely able to fit our wardrobe and a double bed.  
I painted a portrait of the two of us and hung it on the wall, alongside some houseplants that we never forgot to water.   
I slept in the corner of the bed, leaning against the wall because I liked to feel protected, and Will liked to protect me. The house was small and the money was counted, we both had dreams too big to reach, but we loved each other just enough to believe that everything would work out in the end.  
That's the sweet part. The Will with the tight hugs and sincere words, the boy that changed my plans and saved my life.  
This is the best version of us before the war came to end it all.


End file.
